


Full Circle

by nothingisreal



Category: GP2 Series RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-28 11:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12605804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingisreal/pseuds/nothingisreal
Summary: Mitch and Artem are being thick. Alex is trying to do something about it before the time runs out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language, no beta.

If anybody asked, it was Alex’s fault. He knew Mitch, so he must have also known how saying shit like that would end.

Mitch had just settled back on the bed next to him, having given Alex a particularly nice blowjob. It was something they did semi-regularly, despite this being only the third race of the season, because it was easy and fun. They’d known each other before, quickly became close enough that they could have sex without damaging their (still developing) friendship. Plus, it was really good, so what other reason did they need?

Mitch had his fingers wrapped around his own cock, precum leaking all over his fist and dripping onto his stomach. Alex grabbed both his wrists and pulled them up above his head, making Mitch whimper, hips still going and finding nothing to rut against.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” Alex whispered against Mitch’s collarbone as he moved to straddle his thighs. “Keep them here for me, yeah?” He waited for Mitch’s nod before releasing his wrists. He wrapped his fingers loosely around Mitch’s cock and crooked his head to the side, considering his options. Mitch looked about ready to come, so he probably wouldn’t mind a simple handjob. Still, that didn’t mean Alex couldn’t make it better for him.

“Please.” Mitch gasped, his head tipped back against the pillows. “I need-”

“I know.” Alex said soothingly, caressing Mitch’s side with the hand he wasn’t currently using to jerk him off, letting it settle on his abs. God, he really loved Mitch’s abs. He shook his head before he could get distracted from the task at hand.

Mitch’s phone buzzed next to Alex’s knee, dangerously close to the edge of the bed and Alex caught Artem’s name on the screen. He smirked, an idea forming in his brain. “Do you ever imagine it’s Artem doing this to you?”

Mitch gasped. “I… you…” He broke off with a moan when Alex gave him one firm stroke before loosening his grip again.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him. I swear sometimes I think you might just sink to your knees right there in full view of the whole paddock. Is that what you want? Do you want to fuck him? Or maybe the other way around?” Mitch made a strangled sound, his mouth falling open and his hips going up off the bed despite Alex resting his weight on him.

“I see.” Alex tried, and mostly succeeded, to suppress his smirk. He wrapped his hand firmly around Mitch, finally stroking him the way he knew Mitch loved.

“Imagine him bending you over one of those cars and fucking you so hard, you’d be feeling it for days? Just hidden from sight, where anyone could walk in and see you. And then he wouldn’t let you come. Would make you go around with his cum inside you all day. And then he’d tease you, make you beg for it before dropping to his knees and letting you fuck his mouth, come down his throat.”

Mitch’s hands were on Alex now, digging into his thighs, but Alex didn’t stop him. “I’m gonna-”

“Yeah.” Alex leaned down, swiped his tongue over one of Mitch’s nipples and Mitch was gone, head thrown back, Artem’s name on his lips.

 

***

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come so hard.” Alex said thirty minutes later after they’d showered and settled back in bed. “That was so hot. You’d really love to get him on top of you, wouldn’t you?”

Mitch shifted so that he was lying on Alex’s chest, looking up at him. “You’re assuming I haven’t already.”

Alex raised his eyebrows at him.

“What?”

“Have you?” Alex asked in a tone that suggested he knew the answer to be no.

“That’s beside the point. Why are you so sure I haven’t?”

“Because…” Alex said slowly, searching for the right words. “If you had, you wouldn’t be here, in my bed - least of all naked - and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Alex sighed when Mitch wrinkled his nose. “Shit, Evans, do I have to spell it out for you?” With a resigned shake of his head Alex reached over for the remote control to the TV. “I feel like watching some telly.”

Mitch hummed with a faraway look on his face, drumming his fingers on Alex’s chest. “Sure. I’m just gonna-” He picked his phone up from between the sheets and showed it to Alex who just nodded and wrapped his arm around Mitch’s shoulders, pulling him closer to his chest.

 

***

 

Artem thought something was up. Mitch was acting… strange. He tried to talk about it with Alex but the Brit just smiled at him pitifully (and knowingly, how he managed to do both at the same time was beyond Artem) with a small shrug. Which convinced Artem he was going mad. Especially as Mitch wasn’t really doing anything out of ordinary. He was being weird without actually acting weird and Artem was really going to lose his mind if he kept confusing himself like that.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Okay, so maybe he could’ve been more subtle but a) subtle wasn’t really his style and b) they were good friends, which meant they didn’t _need_ to be subtle with each other. Besides, was there even a nice way of putting _‘I think one of us has gone mad, but I don’t know which one, so could you please tell me?’_

Mitch glanced up at him from where he was in the process of unlocking his hotel door.

“What’s wrong with me?” He parroted.

Artem shrugged. “That’s what I want to know.”

Artem took the keycard out of Mitch’s hand, the guy was notoriously bad at using them, and then closed the door behind the two of them without waiting for Mitch to invite him inside.

“What have I done?” Mitch asked curiously, kicking his shoes off and falling front first onto the bed.

Artem contemplated turning the lights on, decided against it, because it would probably end with one of them having to get up to turn them off again, and made his way over to where Mitch was lying.

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m resting.” Mitch responded, his face shoved against the mattress. He was really glad that he met up with Alex in Alex’s own room or else he’d feel kinda guilty about letting Artem just sit on that bed, unaware of what had happened the previous night. Also, there was no incriminating evidence he had to worry about. Artem could be very observant, especially when you didn’t want him to be.

“No, you idiot. I don’t mean _right_ now. I mean... in general… now… Today?” Artem furrowed his brows.

Mitch raised his head and rested his chin on his folded hands. He regarded Artem contemplatively for a moment. “Come again?”

Artem sighed heavily and flopped onto his back. “I don’t know.” He made a vague gesture with his hands. “It’s just… you’re acting normally but at the same time you’re not normal.”

There was that nagging thought in his head that maybe it had something to do with Alex. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Mitch seemed a bit off ever since the beginning of the season and was Artem reading too much into this? He thought very briefly that maybe Mitch had a crush on the Brit but decided against it. Mitch was very open and blunt in everything he did. If he’d had a crush, the whole world would know about it. Or at least Artem, as Mitch’s close (maybe best?) friend.

“Artem, you’re the idiot here. And I mean that most lovingly.”

“Umm…”

“Movie?” Mitch suddenly perked up, he scuttled up the bed towards the headboard where he fished the remote control from under one of the pillows. “What’re you in the mood for?”

Artem blinked at the ceiling. “Ugh… you choose.”

They ended up watching some reality show or whatever it was on national television, neither one of them speaking French. Except they weren’t really watching it, it was just background noise to their conversation. Mitch was sprawled across Artem’s chest, his arm wrapped around the Russian’s waist and it was so warm and cozy and Mitch never wanted to move again.

Had it been Alex in Artem’s place, Mitch would have slipped a hand into his pants and jerked him off, quick and dirty, until he came in his underwear. And then he would have rutted against him, confessed all the filthy things he wanted to do to him, or maybe made Alex go down on him, hands firm on Mitch’s hips, holding them down.

But it was Artem. So Mitch couldn’t do any of this. Instead, he tried not to shift his hips too much, not to press them against Artem’s side. Alex’s words rang in his ears. For one crazy second he thought about just going for it, just to see what would happen. But then Artem laughed about something happily, the corners of his eyes crinkling and Mitch felt like the biggest arsehole for even considering it. Their friendship was too precious to lose for the sake of an experiment. Mitch wasn’t that reckless.

 

***

 

He had a wank in the shower the following day to the memory of Artem’s morning erection pressed against his lower back, that short moment right before the Russian woke up, apologising profusely and almost falling out of the bed in his scurry to get away from Mitch.

 

***

 

“Mitch, what the-?!”

Mitch hadn’t planned this, hadn’t even thought about this. But then he decided to go out for a walk, nowhere he had to be in the next few hours before the race, and Alex was right there, opening the door to his own room across from Mitch’s, and suddenly Mitch couldn’t think about anything else as he grabbed Alex’s arm and dragged him back inside.

He pushed Alex roughly against the closed door, kissed him in the same manner until Alex’s hands slipped beneath his T-shirt, pushed his hips towards Alex’s, his hard-on on Alex’s thigh through two layers of denim and Mitch was so turned on he could probably have come just from dry humping Alex’s leg as if he was a teenager.

“Mitch, fuck…” Alex panted into his mouth. He wasn’t hard yet, Mitch could feel that much. But he could also feel that Mitch’s eagerness was getting to him. “What’s got into you?” Alex asked even as he unbuttoned Mitch’s trousers.

Mitch shrugged. He’d probably confess everything to Alex later, because he desperately needed to get it off his chest, to get some advice and Alex was kind of his best friend, although not quite, and there was no other person Mitch would have trusted with this. But in that moment all he cared about was taking the edge off and there was no simple way to put all his thoughts into one sentence. “Later?” He asked instead, knew Alex wouldn’t mind, would just trust Mitch to know what was best for him. Also, knew Mitch well enough to know what he needed in that moment and it wasn’t a teary heart to heart.

“Any wishes?” Alex asked with a smirk as he palmed Mitch’s erection through his briefs.

“Make me come? I don’t care how.”

Alex kissed him quickly before sinking to his knees, pulling Mitch’s jeans and underwear down just low enough so that he could get to his cock. Mitch loved Alex like this, on his knees for Mitch, so focused on just making it good. Which is why he was so proud of himself for not coming the second Alex’s mouth was on him. He braced one hand on the door in front of him, the other tugging at Alex’s hair slightly, and determinedly refused to close his eyes, looked down at Alex whenever his thoughts strayed, just to remind himself it was Alex and not somebody else... 

It was so good, Alex knew exactly what to do to get Mitch right to the edge without actually pushing him over it. He let Mitch hit the back of his throat, swallowed around him and then when Mitch could feel his abdomen getting warmer and his thighs shaking just a little bit, Alex would pull back to just tease at the tip of Mitch’s cock, his hand working on him, loose and slow.

“Alex…” Mitch moaned, tugging at Alex’s hair harder, his hips pushing forward on their own accord, Alex’s grip on him tightening instinctively, stopping his movement. Alex didn’t mind Mitch fucking his mouth, often enjoyed it, even, but he _loved_ being in control, loved taking Mitch apart. “You’re killing me.”

Alex chuckled, slid down until his lips touched his hand around the base of Mitch’s cock. The tip of his finger was circling Mitch’s hole lazily and Mitch was torn between wanting to push back, get that finger inside him, and to fuck forward into Alex’s mouth. Not that it mattered, Alex was very good at preventing his hips from moving at all.

And then Alex pulled off him just far enough to speak, his lips wet and red and his voice slightly hoarse, brushing Mitch’s cock with each word. “Is this what you think Artem would be like?” And then wrapped his lips around the tip, his hand still working, the other firm on Mitch’s hip.

Mitch always made sure to warn the person sucking him off when he was about to come, even if he knew they were cool with swallowing, it was the basic decency, really. Which is why he was so glad it was Alex, who he sometimes thought knew his body better than Mitch himself, probably expected Mitch to react like this. It made him feel slightly less guilty about his hips jerking forward, despite Alex’s hand on his hip (or maybe Alex had just loosed his grip?), fucking just that little bit deeper into Alex’s mouth as Mitch came with a loud, surprised moan.

He was in a right state afterwards. Alex pushed his jeans up his hips, got him up off the floor and into the bed, spooned behind him, his arms tight around Mitch’s torso until Mitch’s breath evened out and his heart slowed back down. Alex pressed his lips against the back of Mitch’s neck and tangled their legs together.

“Wanna talk?” He asked gently.

Mitch shrugged then promptly nodded. His hand found Alex’s, the feeling of Alex rubbing his palm with the tips of his fingers reassuring, just like his chest pressed against Mitch’s back was.

“I thought I was over it. I was so fucking wrong.” His voice was barely a whisper but he really didn’t need to speak louder, Alex was close enough to hear him clearly.

Alex hummed. “You have a crush on him?” He nuzzled the back of Mitch’s neck when he felt the Kiwi tense in his arms. “It’s okay.”

Mitch shook his head. “Not like this, I don’t think.” Mitch sighed heavily, shifted back, into Alex. Alex’s half-hard cock pressed against his arse and it reminded Mitch Alex hadn’t got off. “Do you want me to…?” He ground his hips back against Alex’s again.

Alex gasped at the friction but shook his head. “It’s fine.”

Mitch bit his lip. “I guess I just really want to… do something with him… but at the same time he’s my good friend. I think that’s why I feel weird about it.”

Alex’s breath tickled the back of his neck as Alex sighed. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Duh!” Mitch realised a second too late where Alex was going with this and his forceful ‘no’ got lost in Alex’s next sentence.

“And yet you don’t have a problem with us fucking.”

Mitch groaned unhappily and turned around in Alex’s arms so that he could bury his face in Alex’s chest. “Nap?”

Alex just pulled him closer, his fingers running through Mitch’s hair in a way that felt way too relaxing for such a simple gesture.

“I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

 

***

 

Mitch didn’t see Artem until the race, which was really impressive, considering the fact that they were in the same team. They didn’t talk longer than that - until after the sprint race. It was weird. Not because it was actually weird but because Artem acted as if nothing had happened and he hadn’t been avoiding Mitch for days. Maybe he hadn’t been? Maybe it was just Mitch imagining things?

But then…

“You’re not coming?” Mitch asked surprised when Artem didn’t stop beside him as he opened the door to his room.

Artem went crimson and shook his head. “Nah, I’m tired. Got an early flight tomorrow.”

Mitch was nice enough not to mention how Artem had never had a problem with falling asleep in Mitch’s bed before, had never been too tired or too busy or too _anything_ to spend time with Mitch. He just nodded. “Sure. I’ll see you.”

He’d never seen Artem disappear so quickly before.

 

***

 

Artem was drunk. It didn’t happen often, Mitch could count the number of times he’d seen his teammate like this on the fingers of one hand. But there he was, unstable on his feet, content to let Mitch take all of his weight, support him as they made their way upstairs.

Mitch had been contemplating going to his room to have a lonely wank, or maybe finding Alex, even though he wasn’t sure he felt like spending time with anyone, except for the one person who just happened to be the root cause of his dilemma in the first place, and who was doing an outstanding job avoiding him without anyone noticing, other than Mitch of course.

It was Alex who found him just as he was leaving, grabbed his arm and pulled him back inside. And when Mitch discovered what Alex needed him for, he immediately started imaging a variety of ways to kill the Brit.

“You fucking arsehole!” He shouted over the music as Alex pushed Artem into his arms.

“Yes!” Alex shouted back with a grin. “You were leaving anyway. Take care of him!”

And no, that wasn’t the reason Alex asked him to look after Artem, not quite. Obviously, it made more sense than someone else leaving the party for the sole purpose of getting Artem to his room. If it was anyone else, anyone but Alex, Mitch wouldn’t have thought twice. But the little fucker knew exactly how Mitch felt about Artem (okay, so maybe not exactly; he had the vague idea, which was more than could be said about anyone else). Lately, Mitch kept alternating between adoring Alex, and wanting to put a fist up his nose.

Mitch propped Artem up against the wall next to his room. “Any chance of getting your keycard without this getting physical?” He eyed Artem’s lower half apprehensively. Artem blinked at him, brows furrowed, as if he was trying to process what Mitch was asking him to do.

“Oh, never mind.” Mitch sighed heavily. “Lynn, I’m gonna murder you in your sleep.” He promised under his breath, his hands reaching for Artem’s front pockets. He ignored the bulge in his trousers that certainly wasn’t the keycard, found nothing but some coins, which forced him to manhandle Artem, so that his front was against the wall. Artem mumbled something incoherently, or maybe just not in English, and Mitch shushed him. He smiled in relief when he finally found what he was looking for in one of Artem’s back pockets.

Once inside, Mitch helped Artem out of his clothes, sat him down on the bed while he himself searched for some water. He handed one bottle to Artem, put one on the nightstand, next to some painkillers he’d found by accident.

He was torn between leaving and staying to make sure Artem was okay. Artem decided for him when he grabbed Mitch’s hand and pulled him towards the bed until the Kiwi was forced to sit down so that he wouldn’t topple over.

“Stay?” Artem mumbled, his eyes closed, and his grip on Mitch’s hand surprisingly firm.

Mitch didn’t sleep a wink that night.

 

***

 

“О Боже, моя голова… никогда больше…”

Mitch looked at Artem who had just stirred awake (or maybe rather half-awake) and he couldn’t stop the fond smile from spreading on his lips.

“Воды…”

“English, please?” Mitch whispered, careful not to speak too loudly, he knew perfectly well how hangovers felt and it wasn’t pleasant.

Artem jumped a bit, quickly looking back over his shoulder, which, judging from the look on his face, was a grave mistake. “Here, have some water.” Mitch reached over Artem’s body for the bottle and the painkillers and handed them to Artem who was staring at him with a very weird expression, his eyes wide and the corners of his mouth downturned.

Artem quickly swallowed one pill, washed it down with the whole bottle of water, still watching Mitch carefully. His eyes slid from Mitch’s face down his body and there was something like relief on his face.

“What happened?” He asked, throwing the empty bottle onto the floor beside the bed.

“You got drunk. I brought you to your room.”

Artem bit his lip. “That’s all?”

“What else should’ve happened?”

“Nothing.” Artem replied quickly. “That’s the whole point.” And then, before Mitch could say anything. “Thank you. Sorry.” Artem smiled sheepishly. “I’m usually more careful.”

Mitch nodded. “I know. What happened?”

Artem looked down at the sheets, bottom lip between his teeth. “I… wasn’t careful?”

Mitch huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yes. But _why_?”

Artem sighed with a small shrug. “Are you okay to wait here while I shower?”

“Sure.”

Artem seemed to hesitate for a beat before shaking his head almost unnoticeably and getting up. Despite trying not to stare too much, Mitch didn’t miss the bulge in Artem’s pants nor the red lines on his back from where the sheets left crease marks on the skin.

“We’ll talk later?” Mitch asked just before Artem could close the bathroom door.

Artem shot him a look that was a little bit panicked and very apprehensive. But then he seemed to steel himself as he nodded with a determined look in his eyes.

Mitch was so preoccupied with worrying about Artem, the image of him in that shower only managed to break through to the front of his consciousness for about five seconds before he shrugged it off, scolding himself inwardly.

Artem came out wearing only a pair of underwear and a T-shirt, which was slightly wet from where water was dripping from his hair, as well as from where he couldn’t be bothered to dry himself off properly, something Mitch had noticed happened to him quite often.

“I’m sorry.” Artem started, once he’d settled opposite Mitch, with some weird sort of determination Mitch had never seen him display before, not even before a race.

“It’s okay.” Mitch replied, almost automatically, but meaning it nonetheless. “We all get drunk sometimes.” He was surprised when Artem shook his head.

“I don’t mean for that. I mean, obviously I’m sorry for that too but I don’t… I didn’t…” He let out a shaky breath, his fingers running through his wet hair, tugging at it, something Mitch often dreamt of doing, albeit in completely different circumstances.

“Then what are you sorry for?”

Artem bit his lip and looked Mitch straight in the eye. “For what happened that morning in Monaco.”

Mitch blinked at him. He would have never guessed Artem could be beating himself up over this. Him avoiding Mitch was a clue but Mitch thought there was more to this, not just that. “Artem!” His tone was scolding. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me for _weeks_?” Artem looked down and Mitch guessed he would have blushed, except his cheeks were already red because of the hot shower he had taken. “That’s another thing that happens to all of us sometimes.”

“It isn’t.” Artem protested weakly, his hands picking at a loose thread in the sheets.

“Um, yes! I don-”

“No!” Artem shook his head, more droplets of water running down his neck, soaking into the soft fabric of his T-shirt. Mitch knew it was soft, he’d nuzzled into it often enough, it was one of Artem’s favourites (Mitch’s too if he was honest). “It’s not _just_ that!”

“Then what is it?” Mitch raised his voice a bit, regretted it immediately. Shouting at each other would get them nowhere but further apart. “Sorry. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Artem laughed a bit hysterically. “You couldn’t help me if you knew either.”

Mitch cocked his head towards his shoulder. This was a side of Artem he’d never seen before. Artem was always so self-assured, so calm, so optimistic. And in that moment he only looked broken and lost and Mitch didn’t care what it’d take to get that look off his face, he was willing to do anything to make Artem smile again.

“Artem.” He said softly, his hand touching the Russian’s shoulder tentatively. “We’re friends. Why won’t you just-?”

The rest of Mitch’s sentence got lost against Artem’s lips, which were suddenly pressing roughly against his own. His fingers tightened on Artem’s shoulder, he didn’t know if he should push him back or pull him closer, he didn’t know anything except that it felt good, even though it wasn’t the way Mitch imagined Artem usually kissed, it was too aggressive, almost as if he was intentionally trying _not to_ make it feel good.

And then it was over as suddenly as it had started. Artem sat back on his heels, Mitch noticed that he looked as shocked as Mitch felt, maybe more so. Artem’s fingers rose to his own lips and Mitch wanted to lean in again, kiss him properly, make it as good as he knew it could be. “Artem…” He said softly and was met with Artem’s panicked look. He got the impression Artem would have run away, the same way he had that morning several weeks earlier, but was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend he had actually done that.

“It’s okay.” Mitch tried.

The words seemed to snap something in Artem as he shook his head quickly. “No it’s not.” His voice was higher than usual, a bit too loud for the thickness of the hotel walls. “Mitch, I- а ебать это всё!” His fingers were in his own hair again. “Что я, блять, делаю? Я сошёл с ума!”

Mitch couldn’t understand shit from what Artem was saying but concluded from his body language and the tone of his voice that he was freaking out. Also, suddenly switching to Russian was a dead give away, Artem almost never did that, no matter how hard it was to stick to English sometimes.

“Artem?” Mitch tried gently. He reached up and grabbed Artem’s wrist, stilling the hand that was still in his hair, tugged at it until Artem let him link their fingers together, rest their hands in Artem’s lap. “Artem, calm down.”

Artem closed his eyes, took deep breaths, which were way too shaky for Mitch’s liking, almost as if he was about to start crying.

“I should go.” His voice was steady, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes, hadn’t made a move to leave, hadn’t even pulled his fingers from between Mitch’s.

“It’s your room.”

Logically, Artem should have told him to leave. But he just nodded and squeezed Mitch’s hand before opening his eyes. “Sorry.” He whispered.

He looked so miserable, Mitch’s heart broke a bit more. “Don’t be.”

Artem shook his head. “I shouldn’t have. What is it about you that makes me just-?” He made a wide gesture with his free hand, let it just hang in the air for a beat before slapping it down on the bed, apparently at a loss for words, and looked at Mitch pleadingly.

Mitch blinked at him. He was trying very hard to understand what was going on in that room, what was going on in Artem’s head. He wasn’t sure if he was reading the situation wrong, wasn’t sure what the right course of action was. He knew his first priority should be getting Artem to stop freaking out, to talk to him properly, tell Mitch what was bothering him, what had been bothering him for a long time if Mitch understood right.

But a small part of his brain was pushing him to just _do_ something, to use the situation to his advantage, finally come clean, tell Artem how Mitch felt about him… Except that was something he hadn’t quite figured out himself yet. Or had he?

Mitch opened his mouth then snapped it shut when he realised he didn’t know what to say. Probably anything would have worked better than “This was nice.”

Artem gaped at him and then the corners of his mouth twitched as he started laughing, his fingers slipping from between Mitch’s, so that he could hide his face in his hands. “You’re unbelievable.” He shook his head when he finally looked up.

Mitch wasn’t sure what he’d done but suddenly Artem looked a bit better, a bit more like his usual self, so he didn’t even care all that much. “You know I’m here for you, right?” God, he sounded like a cheesy romance novel. The things Artem did to him… “Whatever you need.”

Artem bit his lip and looked down at the sheets. “Anything?” He asked, glancing at Mitch through his lashes.

“Anything and everything. For god’s sake, I’d help you get rid of a body if that was what you needed.”

“I think I…” He trailed off with a shake of his head. “Yeah, not quite there yet.” He smiled at Mitch apologetically and Mitch could see how much he wanted to talk about this but something was holding him back. “Can I get back to you on this one?”

“Anytime.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So…?” Alex slid onto the couch next to Mitch, and, of course, this wasn’t going to be just a movie night, possibly ending in some amazing sex, how could it’ve been?

“Don’t push your luck, Lynn.” Mitch warned and shoved some popcorn into his mouth. “I’m still mad at you.”

Alex gave him a look which said he knew Mitch was full of crap. “Sure. About Artem…?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. He put the bowl on the coffee table in front of them and paused the movie which neither one of them was watching anyway. Alex’s arm was stretched across the back of the couch, moved to wrap around Mitch when he settled back against Alex’s chest.

“What about Artem?”

He could feel Alex shrug. “How’s it going?”

Mitch shifted in Alex’s arms just so that he could give him an incredulous look. “How’s it going?” He repeated. “What the fuck, Alex? Are we sixteen-year-old girls now?”

Alex smirked. “If I say ‘yes’, will you answer my question?”

Mitch threw a cushion at his face with a laugh he was unable to contain. His expression quickly went somber again as he considered Alex’s question. He really wanted to talk about it but at the same time didn’t feel like telling anyone. But was Alex _anyone_?

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Mitch said mock-cheerfully as he settled back against Alex again and pressed ‘play’ on the remote.

There was an uneasy feeling in his stomach telling him Alex didn’t believe him (and was right not to). But it wasn’t like he’d do anything. Would he?

 

***

 

Artem wasn't expecting the evening to go like this. They were in some weird pub/restaurant/whatever the fuck it was - the fact that he came along was a surprise in itself, he usually prefered to stay focused on the races, but he felt wound up and uneasy and hoped a couple of drinks and some eardrum-shatteringly loud music would help him relax. There was no music but alcohol on its own would do just fine, thank you. Another surprise was that Mitch _hadn’t_ come. That happened sometimes, sure, but Artem still wished Mitch was there to make him feel slightly less out of place.

He was just about to come out of the bathroom when Alex almost opened the door into him, Artem managing to jump out of the way at the last moment.

“What are you-?”

Alex shushed him, bent in half, as he examined the spaces between the cubicle doors and the floor.

Artem rubbed his temples and looked at the door longingly. But no, he was a good friend, and Alex apparently wasn’t feeling too well. “Alex-” He was shushed again.

Alex went over to the door, locked it and turned to Artem with a grin. Artem wondered briefly what his face must have looked like in that moment. “Right…  What are you doing?”

“ _We_ are having a chat.”

Artem blinked and hummed, his eyebrows rising. “In an empty bathroom?”

Alex spread his arms and shrugged. “As good a place as any.”

“I can see why you and Mitch get along so well.” Artem said neutrally. He was surprised when it made the grin on Alex’s face widen.

“I’m glad you mentioned him. How do you feel about sex?”

Artem thought his eyes might pop out of his head any moment now. “I… beg your pardon?” He asked weakly, supporting himself with one hand against the sinks.

“You two should have sex.”

Artem nodded slowly, caught himself, and shook his head rapidly. “Wait, what? You want me to have _sex_ with _Mitch_?” He could feel the beginnings of a headache. “Is this a dare or are you drunk?”

“Yes. No. Tipsy.”  

“I don’t… I’m not… _Why_?”

“Why not?”

And Artem could write him a whole book about it with pictures and diagrams. This was one of the worst ideas he’d ever heard and that was quite an achievement because Mitch was his teammate second year in a row, his friend, so Artem felt he should be immune to this madness by now. But Alex was always so… reasonable and sane and everything Mitch usually wasn’t, so hearing him suggest something like this made Artem lose his footing, unsure of what was happening.

“Crap, I’ve forgotten you’re not Mitch.”

And this just made Artem more confused which was probably the only reason he didn’t react in any way when Alex came closer to him, put his hand on Artem’s arm. “Let’s start from the beginning, shall we?”

 

***

 

Mitch had just come out of the bathroom when there was a knock on the door. “Just a sec.” He shouted as he hastily pulled on a pair of boxers. He wasn’t expecting Alex for at least another thirty minutes, not that he was complaining, it meant they’d have more time for whatever they felt like doing which usually meant sex. But, to be fair, it could also mean getting drunk, or watching idiotic movies, or talking, or… pretty much anything else depending on their mood.

“I thought you- Artem?”

Artem smiled at him shyly, his eyes running down Mitch’s chest involuntarily before he caught himself doing it, looked up at Mitch’s face. “Hi. Can we talk now?” He was biting his lip and shifting nervously, wringing his fingers.

Alex would understand.

“Sure. Come in. Let me just…”

Artem locked the door behind himself while Mitch located his phone on the bed. He was going to text Alex _but_ :

**Going over some data. See you tomorrow?**

Mitch furrowed his brows at the phone, typed out a short reply:

**No problem. Something came up anyway.**

“What’s up?” He asked, his back to Artem as he pulled on a fresh T-shirt. He could feel Artem staring at him and he barely managed to stop himself from shivering.

“Promise me you won’t be weird?”

Mitch turned around and looked at Artem questioningly. He was sitting on the edge of Mitch’s bed, seemingly more calm than when he knocked on the door just minutes earlier. But Mitch could see it was just a pose, that he was still freaking out inside. He _needed_ to know what was making Artem so anxious.

“Why would I be weird?”

It wasn’t like he ever was, or could be, not around Artem. Their friendship was the kind where you just _clicked_ with a person straight away without any conscious effort. And maybe Mitch should have known then that it would end in some sexual frustration (was it really _purely_ sexual, though?) but he failed to think of that at the time. And even if he had, would that have changed anything?

Artem looked down at the ground, then quickly back up at Mitch’s face. “Promise.” He repeated emphatically and, okay, Mitch thought he could easily promise that much. He didn’t think there was anything that would make him feel awkward around Artem.

“I promise.” He nodded, Artem mirroring the gesture automatically.

Artem took a deep breath, and straightened up a bit, cleared his throat. “Can I kiss you again? Properly.”

Mitch kept his face carefully emotionless. “That wasn’t a proper kiss?”

Artem chuckled humorlessly, shrugged. “That was me trying to prove something. To myself.” And, yes, Mitch had thought so much, but hearing it from Artem’s own lips made him feel something very close to pity.

Instead of answering, he walked over to where Artem was sitting, sat down next to him. Artem was watching his every move, seemingly not even breathing. Mitch brushed Artem’s hair away from his forehead, placed his hand on Artem’s cheek. Artem swallowed audibly before moving in, their lips so close, but not touching just yet.

“Yeah?” Mitch asked with a small smile.

Artem replied by leaning in, his lips brushing against Mitch’s gently and this time it was _exactly_ what Mitch had expected Artem’s kisses to be like. Mitch kissed back, stroked the back of Artem’s neck, but made no move to deepen the kiss. He knew Artem needed to take this at his own pace.

Artem broke the kiss for half a second before leaning in again and this time he was more confident, not hesitating to swipe his tongue over Mitch’s lips, coaxing him to part them, so that he could deepen the kiss. Mitch made a soft sound that seemed much louder in the perfect stillness of the room, Artem’s own moan echoing his.

Artem broke the kiss again, rested his forehead against Mitch’s, his lips still parted.

“Okay?” Mitch asked, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on Artem’s neck.

“I think so?” Artem pressed one more quick kiss to Mitch’s lips. His quiet laughter sounded a bit hysterical to Mitch as Artem let himself fall back onto the bed. He rubbed his hands across his face. “I’m so fucked.” He whispered to the ceiling.

Mitch could only smile sadly as he gave Artem’s knee a reassuring squeeze.

 

***

 

Artem spent that night with Mitch. Nothing happened, nothing sexual at least. It took a lot of convincing before Artem finally relented and agreed to stay. He let Mitch hold him, let him talk rubbish whose sole purpose was distracting Artem, making him forget about everything that was bothering him, before he fell asleep, secure in Mitch’s arms.

And Mitch knew it would be difficult, knew there was so much shit he’d have to get through before he could make Artem see it was okay. He also knew that things would change after what’d happened, for better or for worse - he couldn’t guess.

Except… they _didn’t_. Everything was eerily normal, so much that it was unsettling. Mitch thought he had to be going out of his head, that maybe he’d dreamt up the whole thing. But he could still vividly recall how soft Artem’s lips felt, how he clutched at Mitch afterwards, the heavy weight of him in his arms, against his chest. No dream, no fantasy, could ever be this realistic.

They didn’t mention it. Artem acted as if nothing had ever happened. Like most of the season hadn’t happened! Everything from the morning in Monaco onwards seemed to have been wiped from his memory. He wasn’t avoiding Mitch anymore, but he wasn’t getting any closer to him either. He just _was_ , like he’d always been. It was driving Mitch insane!

And of course it was just Artem’s style to completely shock Mitch at the most unexpected moment. He loved doing that when racing, driving as if he could barely keep up and then doing some spectacular overtaking which would completely steal the show from everyone else. Apparently, he also loved doing that when it came to everything else, especially Mitch.

So yes, it was Artem who’d started it, who’d grabbed Mitch halfway through some silly story and kissed him breathless. But then it was Mitch who pushed Artem down on the bed, laid halfway on top of him and jerked him off, made him come in his pants, hands fisted in the back of Mitch’s T-shirt, keeping him close.

It was a chain reaction with them from then on. Whenever one of them did something, pushed them a bit deeper into whatever it was they were getting themselves tangled up in, the other would go a step further, unwilling to be outdone or maybe just eager for _more_. At least that was what Mitch thought at first. However, he quickly realised that it wasn’t quite like that.

Artem acted as a catalyser. He’d do something which would make Mitch feel like he was about to go out of his skin if he didn’t get Artem closer. Mitch could see Artem wanted everything they were doing, maybe more than that, but he still needed some coaxing before he’d actually do it. He was still afraid of this closeness between the two of them, at least in the physical sense. Which is why he needed Mitch to push him just a little bit. Once he got over the fear, though, he had no hold-ups. Paired with Mitch’s inability to stay away from him, it wasn’t very surprising they ended up having sex at every opportunity. There was that memorable occasion, Mitch had just blown Artem for the first time the previous night, when Artem pulled Mitch into the public bathroom and made him go down on him, the other guys only a wall away from them.

Mitch wasn’t sure what he should make of the fact that this was the best sex he’s ever had and it barely even got into the _sex_ territory.

 

***

 

“I feel bad about you never getting anything out of this.” Artem told him one night, when Mitch was busy licking around his navel, Artem’s T-shirt pushed up because Mitch was too impatient to take it off completely, and it still blew his mind that he got to _undress_ Artem now. Not fully, he hadn’t tried that yet, but his shirt usually ended on the floor and his pants just below his hips. “I’m not usually that selfish.”

Mitch made a humming noise, only half listening, focused on the way Artem’s abs shook beneath his tongue when he reached a hand down to squeeze Artem through his sweatpants.

“Mitch.” Artem tugged at his hair to push him away and Mitch wanted to resist but the tone of his voice told him they wouldn’t get very far unless he listened.

“You’re not selfish.” Mitch decided to ignore the first part of Artem’s speech. It was a ridiculous notion, anyway, and Mitch had no idea how he should react to that. Did Artem seriously think Mitch wasn’t getting anything out of it? He’d been jerking off to the thought of Artem’s cock in his mouth for weeks.

“I am.” Artem argued, sat up straight, which made his T-shirt fall back down and cover his torso. Mitch sighed unhappily. He wished Artem had waited half an hour for Mitch to be done with him before deciding to talk. But if that was what Artem wanted. Mitch was so gone, and how had he not realised that before? Him feeling guilty about fucking Alex, to the point where he’d actually stopped doing it, should have been a huge clue that something was up.

He was surprised when he realised the thought didn’t make him feel shocked or scared, didn’t make him freak out even a little bit. It was as if he’d known all along but hadn’t _consciously_ thought about it. He just accepted it and moved right on without pausing.

“Can I try something?” Artem asked.

Mitch glanced longingly at Artem’s crotch and huffed. “Sure. But I want to suck you off later.”

Artem tugged at the collar of Mitch’s T-shirt. “Take it off?”

“You too.” Mitch demanded even as he knelt up so that he could get the shirt up over his head. When he looked back he was greeted by a shirtless Artem staring at his torso with such an intense look, Mitch felt slightly hot.

“Come here.”

And suddenly he was pulled into Artem’s lap, Artem’s fingers running up and down his sides gently, moving to stroke over his abs, before coming to stop at the waistband of his jeans, where Artem hesitated.

“It’s okay.” Mitch whispered.

“What is?”

Mitch shrugged with a small smile. “Whatever you want to do?” _I trust you_ , he didn’t add. Probably didn’t even have to. If Artem didn’t know that, he was an idiot.

Artem chuckled at that, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, and pressed a quick kiss to Mitch’s lips. Or at least he intended for it to be quick but Mitch grabbed the back of his neck, kept him there, as he nudged Artem’s lips with his tongue, prompting him to part them. He let his hands fall onto Artem’s shoulders, enjoying how broad they were.

He was so absorbed in the making out, he failed to realise Artem’s hands had moved to his arse. He only noticed when he heard himself moan as Artem pressed their hips together. His fingers tightened on Artem’s shoulders and he had to break the kiss, because there were too many sensations at once, which was ridiculous, they were dry humping through four layers of clothing, it was nothing.

But it was Artem, who still needed Mitch to reassure him a thousand times that it was okay, there was nothing wrong with enjoying what they were doing, that Mitch not only didn’t mind, but even loved how he could turn Artem on so easily, some making out enough to get Artem all hard and panting against Mitch’s mouth. It was Artem, who would never let any other guy do this, only Mitch, and the thought was enough to make Mitch moan again, lean down to press kisses against Artem’s neck and face, as they found a rhythm.

“Artem…” It’d been long, _too_ long, and Mitch was ready to come, had to hold back, because he didn’t want this to be over so soon, was afraid of what would happen afterwards.

But Artem still had his hands on Mitch’s arse and he squeezed it, pushed Mitch forward harder, the angle just right and Mitch moaned loudly, let himself rest most of his weight on Artem, let Artem guide their movements and it was almost too much.

“Artem…” He tried again, his voice higher and breathless. “I-”

Artem nodded his head quickly, his eyes trained on Mitch’s face. “Yeah.” He whispered. “Me too.”

And that was all it took. Mitch was gone, his hips jerking forward against Artem as he came in his underwear.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Artem said as he shoved his hand into his own pants and Mitch didn’t have enough strength to do it for him, didn’t really want to anyway because Artem was masturbating right in front of him and Mitch could feel his dick twitch weakly, the feeling almost painful.

It didn’t take much, maybe three strokes before Artem threw his head back against the wall, his mouth open and Mitch would never get tired of seeing him like this.

 

***

 

Mitch thought Artem was going to freak out. He didn’t know how much but he expected some strong feelings. But Artem surprised him once again. Just as Mitch was trying to shake off the fog that clouded his brain from the orgasm, so that he could react correctly according to the level of Artem’s distress, Artem slid down the bed, so that he was lying, with Mitch still straddling his thighs, and pulled Mitch down on top of his chest.

“We’re icky.” He said with a grimace. Mitch couldn’t disagree, his underwear was quickly becoming very uncomfortable and he was fairly sure there was spunk on his trousers, as well as Artem’s, even though he didn’t know whose it was.

They should have got up and showered. Or at least got changed. But Mitch loved the position they were in, Artem’s even heartbeat slowly lulling him to sleep. “Don’t wanna move.” Mitch admitted.

“Me too.” Artem said. Mitch shot him a pointed look and Artem furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. “Either. Neither? Me _neither_.” He corrected himself. “English is hard.”

Mitch started laughing. “It’s a good thing Russian’s so easy.”

Artem chuckled, Mitch could feel it vibrating in his chest. “Shh… I just came. My brain’s not working.”

And the words sparked something in Mitch, made him gather whatever strength he had left and lean up to kiss Artem until they were both giggling breathlessly.

 

***

 

“Okay, so I might have a thing with Artem but I don’t know and it’s kinda weird but I think I like him a lot and I don’t know if he likes me too but I think he does because he wouldn’t do what he does with me if he didn’t, right? What am I supposed to do?”

Alex gaped at him over the paper he had been reading before Mitch found him. They were in the hotel restaurant, the hour a bit too late for breakfast, which meant they were almost alone, save for some mechanics Mitch didn’t recognise, but who were sitting too far away to overhear anything anyway.

Alex shook his head and put the papers down. “You’re supposed to say that again - slowly and with pauses.”

Mitch rolled his eyes and sat down on a chair he’d pulled closer to Alex’s, so that they could speak quietly. “You’ve heard me.”

Alex nodded. “I did. I didn’t understand shit though. You sound delirious.”

Mitch stared at him with his best puppy eyes. “I _really_ need your help.”

“I hate you.” Alex muttered and Mitch knew he had him. Not that there’d been any doubt before. Alex was _always_ willing to help Mitch. The only question was how long it would take before he’d give in. Not very long, usually.

“You and Artem, hmm? Took you long enough.”

“That’s what I- What?” Mitch stared at Alex who just smiled at him like he thought Mitch was a little child who had to have the simplest, most obvious things explained to him. “We’re not… I mean, we _are_ … But then not really…”

Alex raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “You’re more unintelligible than usually. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes at him. “Arsehole. Fine.” He took a deep breath but deflated quickly. “I don’t know where to start.” He said with such a lost look, Alex felt kind of sorry for him.

“You have a thing with Artem.”

Mitch nodded then shook his head. He shrugged, his brows furrowed. “Kind of?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Kind of. Okay. So what exactly does it mean to _kind of_ have a thing with someone?”

Mitch played with a paper napkin he’d picked up from the table. He chewed on his bottom lip, contemplating how much he wanted to give away. On one hand, he desperately needed to talk about this, to get some advice… But on the other, he didn’t want anyone to know. He felt good that this was something just he and Artem knew about. Their secret. Besides, he wasn’t sure how much he could tell Alex - Artem was so vulnerable with him, he let Mitch see things nobody else had any idea about and Mitch wanted to keep it that way.

Alex sighed heavily and Mitch glared at him. Not that it worked. Alex had been immune to Mitch staring daggers at him for a very long time. “Do you fuck?”

Mitch shrugged. “Kind of?”

Alex stared at him blankly, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. “You _kind of_ have a thing with him and you _kind of_ fuck. Jesus, are you confused! And confusing too.”

Mitch opened his mouth to protest but Alex’s next question effectively shut him up.

“Are you _kind of_ in love with him? Oh come on.” He added when he saw Mitch’s startled expression. “You have it so bad for him, you’d have to be blind not to notice.”

Mitch looked down at his shoes. “Maybe.” He mumbled. He sighed and looked back up at Alex. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But not a word of this to anyone.”

“You know I don’t go around telling people my friends’ secrets.”

Mitch nodded. “We kiss. And we kind of have sex. Handjobs, I go down on him sometimes. We… dry humped yesterday.” He recalled with a fond smile. “It’s nothing but this is the best sex I’ve ever had. No offence.” He added quickly, as he realised what he’d just said.

Alex laughed cheerfully. “None taken. I get why it’s good.”

“Want to tell me? I’ve been wondering why for weeks.”

Alex shrugged. “Because it’s Artem? Sex is always better when it’s…” He bit his lip and contemplated Mitch for a moment. “I don’t think you’re ready for this yet. But what do you need my help with?”

“I think I might _kind of_ have a tiny crush on him.” Mitch admitted, studying the napkin. “And I don’t know what I should do about it. It’s not very smart to have sex with someone you’re… in love with.”

Alex resisted the urge to slap a hand against his own forehead. “Mitch… I hate to break it to you… that’s when people usually have sex. You know, when they’re in love with someone?”

Mitch glared at him but got no reaction again so he just sighed, defeated. “But only if they’re in love with each other and not… you know.”

Alex groaned up at the ceiling. “Mitch, you fucking moron.”

Mitch ignored him. “I think he’s confused.” He admitted quietly. This had been bothering him for a very long time. This thought kept him awake at night and prevented him from concentrating on anything else. “Maybe he’s doing this because he trusts me? And not because it’s _me_.”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do with you two.” Alex shook his head. “How’s this for an idea - talk to him?”

“But-”

“No buts. Just talk. Like two adults you supposedly are.” And with that he picked the papers with his data and the map of the track up, signalling to Mitch that the conversation was over and that he’d better do as Alex had said.

They still hadn’t talked about it when Artem, still beaming from having scored his first podium, sucked Mitch off later that evening, unsure and a bit clumsy but very enthusiastic.

 

***

 

“What are we doing?”

Artem shot him a startled look. He glanced down at the trousers which he had pulled halfway up his legs and the race suit that was thrown over the back of a chair, then back up at Mitch. “Umm…”

“No!” Mitch protested. He flung his fireproofs at the chair with more force than was strictly necessary and missed it by a foot. He hadn’t planned to talk about this until they were alone, a hotel door separating them from the outside world. But it’d been bugging him for so long, almost a month since Alex told him he should talk to Artem, he couldn’t take it anymore. “I mean, what is this thing between us?”

Artem looked around nervously, then back at Mitch. “Seriously? _Here_? Of all places…” He shook his head.

And okay, so maybe Russia wasn’t the ideal setting for this kind of talk but he really didn’t care. He needed answers. Quickly. Besides, Bahrain or Abu Dhabi would be even worse.

But Artem was too fast, as he quickly pulled a T-shirt on and stormed out of there, probably to be as far away from Mitch as he could get.

 

***

 

Alex shot him a disapproving and slightly puzzled look at dinner, nodded towards Artem who was sitting on his own in the corner, the Russian's lips pressed together tightly and his arms crossed, and Mitch was suddenly sick of everything.

He stormed over to where Artem was sitting, no longer caring if he was making a scene. “Come on.” He grabbed Artem’s arm, dragged him towards his room without waiting for an answer.

“What the fuck, Mitch?” Artem pushed him off as soon as the door slammed shut behind them. There was tension in his whole body, his jaw set and his shoulders squared. He looked angry, Mitch had never seen him like this. But he also looked a bit… scared, maybe?

“This is driving me nuts. What the fuck are we doing?!”

“Do we really have to talk about this now?” And Mitch knew it wasn’t _now_ it was _ever_.

“Yes. Yes, we really do.” He took a deep breath to calm down. When he spoke again he sounded much calmer. “There are two races left and I won’t be here next season, so-”

“What?!” Artem was suddenly just inches from him, his hand hovering over Mitch’s arm. Mitch couldn’t decipher the look on his face, it was some weird mix of fear and anger and sadness… “You’re _leaving_?”

Mitch couldn’t bear to look at him any longer, stared at the wall behind Artem’s head instead. “I think so. Not the series." He added quickly. Was that good or bad news? He didn't know anymore. "But we won’t be teammates anymore.”

Everything was perfectly still for several seconds, neither one of them daring to make the smallest sound or even to breathe.

Artem stepped away from him, shaking his head with a humourless laugh. “Nice.”

Mitch let himself be pushed out of the way as Artem stormed out for the second time that day, slamming the door with a resounding noise which Mitch could still hear hours later.


	3. Chapter 3

This was the worst deja vu Alex had ever experienced. Everything was exactly the same, even his room number. They were both wearing the shirts of their respective teams and Alex was talking about how the weather was impossible, way too hot to do anything, and suddenly Mitch pushed him down, pressed him into the bed using his whole body weight and kissed him hard. And then Alex grasped his shoulders, pushed him off, the way he had almost exactly seven months earlier, asked “What the fuck?”

And Mitch just shook his head, leaned down to kiss him again.

Seven months earlier, Alex gave in, let Mitch undress him, jerked them both off, their cum mixing on his stomach. But it wasn’t seven months earlier…

“Mitch… Mitch, stop this!” Alex pushed Mitch off, sat up straight, a safe distance between himself and Mitch who was staring at the sheets, looking determined and angry and god knows what else. “What are you doing? No, wait.” He shook his head. “I know _what_ you’re doing. I want to know _why_?”

Mitch looked away from him, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Because I want to?” He said finally, looking straight at Alex, his hands balled into fists and his back tense.

“Why? We haven’t fucked in months.” Not since Silverstone. Not since Artem came into the picture. “What’s happened?”

Mitch closed his eyes, all the anger leaving his body. When he looked at Alex again it was with a pleading expression. “Please? Can we just…?”

Alex had mixed feelings about this. It wasn’t so much about feeling used, Mitch wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t have sex with him unless he actually wanted to, wouldn’t use Alex as a stand-in for what he couldn’t have for some reason. It was more about Mitch looking so broken, so miserable, Alex felt like he would be taking advantage, like he should convince Mitch to talk about whatever was bothering him instead of trying to soothe himself with sex.

But it was Mitch. And Alex had always had a very hard time saying no to him.

 

***

 

It was hell. Seriously. Somehow they’d gone a full circle, the three of them - three, because there was no point pretending Alex wasn’t tangled up in this mess as well.

It started in Bahrain… Okay, so it probably started much earlier than that, Alex would bet everything that it did, but he couldn’t be sure, he didn’t see it with his own eyes. What he did see was the way Mitch and Artem stole little glances at each other when they thought no one was looking. Or the dopey smiles on their faces when someone mentioned the other. Or how Mitch would talk about Artem nonstop, seemingly not even realising he was doing that.

They were like two fifteen-year-olds having a crush for the first time and it was embarrassing but also kind of endearing. If Alex hadn’t felt the urge to slap them for being stupid and blind each time he saw them.

So yes, the wheels had been set in motion in Bahrain when Mitch had sex with Alex. Alex was on the fence about it but decided there was no harm. He liked Mitch, he liked sex and, as it turned out, he _really_ liked sex with Mitch. It wasn’t like they were getting married.

It started for real a bit over a month later in Monaco when Alex, in a strike of inspiration, decided to prove his theory right by seeing how Mitch would react to the thought of Artem in Alex’s place. And not that he had doubts before, but seeing Mitch come apart just from the fantasy convinced him he was right.

So it was Alex who reminded Mitch of the feelings he had for his teammate. And it was Alex who suggested to Artem that Mitch liked him, _wanted_ him. Not in so many words, though. It was more something along the lines of ‘you seem lost and Mitch is your best friend, he’d do anything to help you out’. Which meant, more or less, ‘he’s in love with you and you’re in love with him, but I know you’re terrified and genuinely confused, it’s okay’.

Alex was happy when after Silverstone Mitch didn’t have sex with him anymore. A bit lonely, maybe, but his hand was good enough. He could have always found somebody else if he’d really wanted to.

And then they somehow managed to fuck it up and Alex wanted to know _how_. It kind of started in Bahrain, and it was back to square one in Bahrain. There, full circle. Except the season was coming to an end instead of starting and there was no time. He couldn’t wait for Mitch (or Artem for that matter) to get his head out of his arse.

One race. One more weekend and it’d be over. If they didn’t work things out before then, they never would.

 

***

 

He had a plan. It was crazy, and risky, and reckless. But there really was no time to play it safe. It was only a week before Abu Dhabi - before the finale. Alex made sure Mitch was with him every day, made sure there were photos on the Internet and flirty comments, hoped Artem saw all of them.

But that was the easy part.

He knew Artem and Mitch still hadn’t talked things out, that they were mad at each other, even though Mitch still hadn’t told him what they’d argued about and Alex hadn’t asked. This was the hard part - getting the two of them to stop acting like little children and finally have a fucking conversation.

In the end, he played it by ear, just an impulse. They were in the corner of the Russian Time garage, Mitch still giddy from the podium. He had his back to the entrance and Alex could see Artem come in over Mitch’s shoulder. It was a split-second decision, no time for hesitation as he grabbed Mitch’s arm and pulled him into a kiss. Mitch made a surprised sound, but didn’t resist, his arms going around Alex’s waist almost automatically. Eyes half-open, Alex saw all the emotions on Artem’s face like in slow motion - shock, disbelief, anger, hurt, sadness, resignation - before he turned on his heel and walked away as fast as he could without actually running.

There was something very much like guilt in the pit of his stomach, but Alex knew there was no other way to do this. It’d either kill Mitch and Artem’s relationship for good, or do the exact opposite. The important thing was they would at least do something. Alex could no longer bear to see them circling around each other without getting any closer or further apart.

 

***

 

Mitch was thrown back to the afternoon in Russia when everything went to hell, except with their roles reversed, when Artem grabbed his arm and pulled him in opposite direction to where he’d been heading to. He still didn’t know what was going on when he was shoved against Artem’s hotel door, Artem using Mitch’s body to slam it shut.

“What the fuck was that?” He growled, his face inches from Mitch’s.

And Mitch thought he should have been the one asking that question. In his mind it was Artem who’d suddenly gone mad and Mitch had no idea _why_ and what he had to do with anything. He was so stupefied it didn’t even cross his mind that he should have been angry.

“What do you mean?”

Artem’s chest was heaving as he laughed, his fingers digging into Mitch’s arm almost painfully.

“Have you been fucking him all this time?”

Mitch widened his eyes. He finally understood, at least somewhat, what was going on. “Wait, you mean Alex? We-”

“Yeah, I saw that.” He shoved Mitch against the door once more before stepping away, flopping onto the bed with his head in his hands. His shoulders slumped as he deflated, as if he no longer had any strength left to be angry. “Why did you do this?” He sounded broken, his voice slightly choked. Mitch wanted nothing more than to go up to him, take him in his arms and explain everything, tell him how much Artem really meant to him… But he knew better than that.

“I should’ve listened to that idiot. Fuck it.” He muttered, hitting the back of his head against the door. He was mad at himself for not talking to Artem, for letting them get to this. The knowledge that he could’ve stopped this before it ever happened was killing him inside.

But he did try. It was Artem who didn’t want to listen. But then, wasn’t it Mitch’s fault for hurting him, not telling him he was switching teams earlier? They were fucking worth each other.

But if Artem was so upset about all this, about Mitch leaving,about Alex, then maybe it meant there was more to what they’d been doing than confusion on the Russian’s part?

“You should leave.” Artem said into his hands.

That finally pushed Mitch into action. He shook his head and walked over to the bed in determined strides. Artem didn’t look up when he felt the mattress shift under Mitch’s weight. And his only reaction to the hand on his shoulder was to shrug Mitch off.

“I should’ve talked to you ages ago.” Mitch sighed, looking down at the floor.

“Was it fun? Leading us both on?” He still had his face hidden in his hands but maybe that was better, Mitch wasn’t sure he wanted to see the expression on Artem’s face. “Or maybe he knew? Maybe it was just me that you-”

“Artem, I’m begging you, _don’t_.” Mitch couldn’t take this anymore. Each of Artem’s words felt worse than a slap and the worst part was that maybe he wasn’t that far off.

“Why?!” Artem finally looked up at him. His eyes were a bit glassy but there were no tears on his cheeks and it was some relief. “It’s not like you care.”

Mitch closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. Such an end to their friendship was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. But now… was there really anything more to lose? Artem was furious with him, probably hated him, could telling the truth make it worse?

“I need you to calm down. We have to talk.”

Artem glared at him but nodded. “Fine.” He hid his face in his palms again and breathed deeply, steadily. When he looked at Mitch again a few minutes later he seemed more collected, almost eerily calm. “Let’s talk.”

Mitch realised he had to be the one to start but all the words escaped him, just like that. There was so much he wanted to say, he didn’t know where to begin.

“Alex has known all along.”

Yes, on second thoughts, this probably wasn’t the smartest opening. Artem’s mouth twitched but other than that his expression remained neutral.

“But I wasn’t having sex… I mean, I was- I _had been_ … but then I stopped… Fuck…”

He was getting _himself_ confused so it was no surprise that Artem just stared at him, and Mitch could practically _see_ the two large question marks in his eyes.

“Why did you…” He bit his lip, looking for the right words, finding none. “...with me?”

Mitch huffed. There were so many answers he could think of.

_Because I’m in love with you._

_Because I’ve been dreaming of doing that ever since I first met you._

_Because you needed my help and somehow this was it._

_Because you_ let _me…_

Artem was staring at him and Mitch realised he’d just been glaring at the floor for the past minute or so. He shrugged.

Artem snorted and bit the inside of his cheek, his jaw set as he nodded. “Right.” He glanced out of the window, looked back at Mitch. “You really should leave.”

And that was the moment Mitch realised there was no going back, one way or another this was ending right there and then. Mitch could confess everything, or he could run away and wonder about all the ‘what-if’s for the rest of his life.

“I like you.” He mumbled.

“That’s nice.” Artem said emotionlessly. “Get out.”

“Not like this.” Mitch shook his head. He didn’t have the courage to look Artem in the eye. But suddenly it was as if the walls he’d built around himself all came crumbling down at once and once he started speaking, he couldn’t stop.

“I’ve had a crush on you ever since we first met. And then this year I started hooking up with Alex and he reminded me of that. And then you kissed me. Twice. And I really tried to be objective about it, I didn’t want to confuse you even more, but it was so difficult.”

“I stopped… whatever it was with Alex after the first time you kissed me - really kissed me. And then we started fooling around again in Bahrain. I was so mad after you blew up at me in Russia. But you were right, I should have told you. I guess I thought that talking about it would make it real and I really don’t want to leave.” He chuckled humorlessly with a shrug. “Sorry about that. As for why I was…” He had the same problem as Artem had had earlier trying to define what they had been doing. Messing around sounded too meaningless, as did fucking, involved was just… _no_. “...with you… It looked like you needed that. And I do really like you, that wasn’t a lie.” He cleared his throat and shifted, feeling ill-at-easy. “Have I answered all your questions?”

Artem was staring at him, face red and mouth open. “Mitch…”

“In that case I’m gonna go now.” He didn’t wait for Artem’s reply, got up from the bed and headed for the door. Artem’s voice stopped him, just as he was about to open the door. “Mitch, don’t-”

Mitch smiled at him - genuinely - he felt so much lighter now, but he also knew that Artem was probably feeling the opposite. “It’s okay.”

Artem didn’t try to stop him again.

 

***

 

“I don’t believe it.” Alex muttered, his arms crossed and his brows furrowed. He wasn’t angry, though. Maybe a bit disappointed?  “I was looking forward to this race.”

Mitch hummed in agreement. “We all were.”

Suddenly, they had the full day to do what they wanted and Mitch could see some of the guys preparing for the party already. Most of the guys, actually. He thought someone might have caught an early flight home, but most of them were still there. The race being red-flagged before the first lap was done was unexpected, obviously, but that was motosports - you never could predict what would happen.

“You look different.”

Mitch looked at Alex to find the Brit staring at him with a small smile and shrugged. “Different how?”

“Different - happy.”

Mitch chuckled. “I guess.”

He’d had a short moment of panic when they told him Artem had been caught up in that mess. But they quickly added that he was okay, and Mitch’s heart started beating normally again. He hadn’t seen Artem since before the race, so he couldn’t judge what state he was in by himself, but if anything terrible had happened, he would’ve known.

He was just beginning to wonder if Artem was one of those people who’d got on a plane back home when someone touched his arm.

Alex practically jumped out of his chair. “I’m gonna go check out that party now.”

“Are you doing anything?” Artem asked, his voice low, his lips practically touching Mitch’s ear.

Mitch shook his head. “Not really.”

“Can we go to my room?”

 

***

 

They were on the verge of… _something_. Mitch could feel it in his stomach. It was a mixture of nervousness and anticipation and maybe a little bit of relief. Artem was still talking to him, and he seemed unharmed, both physically from the accident, and mentally from everything that had happened during the season.

“You okay?” Mitch asked, just to hear it from Artem himself.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah… I’m fine.” He bit his lip and rocked forwards and backwards on the balls of his feet twice. “You disappeared quickly yesterday.”

It was said lightly, almost conversationally but the look in Artem’s eyes was expectant and intense and Mitch felt slightly off-balance but in a good way which didn’t really make too much sense.

“You didn’t let me say anything.” Artem continued when Mitch failed to speak up.

“I figured you could use some time to think about… what I said.”

Artem nodded. “I just have one question. Those things you said, you meant them, right?”

Mitch made an annoyed sound. “Obviously. I don’t go around saying things like that just because I-”

Artem stopped what was the beginnings of his outraged rambling by pressing his lips against Mitch’s. “Just checking.” He said with a smile.

Mitch wanted to say something, wasn’t sure what, but Artem spared him the trouble of figuring that out by kissing him again. They’d kissed so many times in the past few months and yet this felt different. Artem was smiling against his lips and his hands were gentle on Mitch’s waist and neither one of them felt the need to deepen the kiss, content to keep it like this.

“Artem…” Mitch gasped. “What-?”

“I know you’re leaving next year. And this is fucked up. And I still don’t know how I feel about this. But can we maybe just… try?”

Mitch nodded his head enthusiastically, not even trying to stop the grin forcing its way onto his lips. Instead of saying anything, he grabbed the back of Artem’s neck, pulled him down (even on tiptoes he was too short to kiss him properly without Artem bending down, and, wow, that was a major turn on, how had he never figured out it was a thing for him before?) and kissed him, open-mouthed and dirty, moaning when Artem slipped his hand beneath his T-shirt, ran it up Mitch’s abs, the other one squeezing Mitch’s arse, holding him up against Artem.

“I still feel guilty about getting off more often than you.” Artem confessed when they broke apart, pulled Mitch’s shirt up over his head. “Can I make it up to you?”

And really, there was no need for that. “You don’t need-”

“I want to.”

How could Mitch argue with that? So he didn’t. He let Artem undress him, push him down onto the bed and straddle his thighs, kiss him, Artem’s hands mapping every inch of his body, his lips following soon after. They hadn’t really done anything, Artem was still fully-clothed, and Mitch felt more turned on than ever before.

“Artem…” He reached his hand out to the Russian, who was busy sucking a bruise into Mitch’s inner thigh. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one who’s naked.”

Artem chuckled and Mitch thought he might be a tease about it, but he just nodded and straightened up to pull his T-shirt off. Mitch’s hand went to his stomach almost unconsciously, he ran his finger down the dark hair leading from Artem’s navel to the waistband of his pants, which were sticking out above his shorts. He shot Artem a questioning look, got a nervous smile in response and he let his hand slip lower, squeezed Artem through his trousers.

“Take them off.”

Mitch grinned, obliged immediately. He pulled the fabric down Artem’s thighs, left his underwear on, because he wanted to take this one step at a time, still wasn’t sure how secure Artem felt.

Artem got up to kick his shorts off and then he was straddling Mitch’s thighs again, moving down his body to bite at the skin of his hips, lick over his abs…

Suddenly he realised what Alex had meant when he said that he wasn’t surprised Mitch loved having sex with Artem, that it was the best sex he’d ever had - of course it was great, everything he did with Artem was great and this was just on a completely different level - on _more than one_ level. Mitch had never let himself be this vulnerable in front of someone else, this trusting and open.

“Fuck…” He gasped, his back arching when Artem wrapped his lips around his cock. “No-oh! You’re gonna make me cum.”

Artem pulled off to laugh. “That’s the idea.” He grinned and Mitch rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Not like this. Come here.”

Artem obliged, the fabric of his briefs brushing over Mitch’s cock as he settled on top of the Kiwi and Mitch gasped at the sensation, giggled breathlessly. “I’ve missed you.” He confessed.

It’d been what? A month? But it felt like ages. Mitch hadn’t really realised it before, but now with Artem on top of him, it hit him just how much he’d been wanting to feel this again.

“Missed you too.” Artem rolled his hips down against Mitch’s and Mitch let himself slip his fingers under the waistband of Artem’s pants, moving them further down onto his arse when Artem made an appreciative sound.

“Fuck me?” And maybe he was pushing this too far, but he trusted Artem to tell him if he’d stepped over a line, trusted Artem not to freak out.

Artem shook his head and Mitch wanted to tell him it was okay but… _But_ “Can you fuck _me_?”

And the image that request put in Mitch’s brain was enough to make him moan loudly and push back at Artem’s hips to stop him from moving before Mitch could embarrass himself. He wanted to say so many things, tell Artem he didn’t need to do this, to ask if he was sure, to tell him how much he loved him… In the end all that came out of his mouth were some garbled noises that didn’t even sound like human speech.

“Is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’?” The smile on Artem’s face was sweet - understanding. It wasn’t the expression of someone who was forcing themselves to do something they didn’t want to. Which was a relief but also… Artem wanted this. Artem wanted Mitch inside him. And, unless Mitch had missed something, Artem wanted Mitch to be the first ( _only_ , Mitch’s brain supplied unhelpfully and Mitch had to close his eyes for a second to remember how to breathe) guy to do that.

“Jesus Christ, Artem.” He opened his eyes and Artem was looking with such a shy expression, and in his eyes Mitch could see how much he wanted this. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

“I want to. I want…” He giggled, looked away, his cheeks a deeper shade of pink all of a sudden. “With you.”

Mitch swore and nodded because, honestly, he knew the feeling of just wanting that one person as close as you could get them. And in that moment it looked like they would both be getting what they wanted.

“I’ve never… you know.” Artem bit his lip, looked at Mitch with so much trust it took his breath away. “I mean, I have. But not like this.”

And it wasn’t like Mitch was an expert either. He’d let one guy fuck him once, back when he was a teenager - how old was he? Sixteen? Seventeen at most. It was a bit uncomfortable and not very pleasant - both of them inexperienced, not knowing how to make it good. Since then he’d fucked girls, obviously, and one of his girlfriends was particularly fond of anal, but other than that he’d stuck to blowjobs and handjobs and frotting - stuff like that.

But to be fair, nothing could have prepared him for Artem asking him to fuck him, to be his _first_. He really wanted this to be good, to blow Artem’s mind the same way Artem had blown his just by asking him to do this.

“Lay down.” He pushed at Artem’s shoulders until their position was reversed - Artem stretched out beneath Mitch.

Mitch started by kissing down Artem’s chest, moving lower to the waistband of his briefs. It’d been so long since the last time he got to do this, his mouth was salivating at the very thought. The bulge in Artem’s underwear was very obvious, as was the wet patch at the top which Mitch teased with his tongue.

Artem was propped up on his elbows, his mouth open and his brows furrowed as he stared down at Mitch. His chest was heaving up and down, little breathy sounds escaping from his lips.

“I’ve missed this so much.” Mitch mumbled as he pushed Artem’s underwear down his legs where Artem kicked it off onto the floor. Mitch had been meaning to tease, to draw this out but he didn’t have enough willpower to do anything other than to lean down and take Artem into his mouth.

“Oh fuck…” Artem’s head hit the pillow but he quickly looked back down, unwilling to miss one second of this.

Mitch loved the heaviness, the precum dripping onto his tongue when he sucked harder, Artem’s moans, the way he shifted, trying not to thrust into Mitch’s mouth, his hands fisted in the sheets.

“You’re so good at this.”

He’d been told that before but hearing it from Artem made his stomach twist with pride and arousal. He hummed around Artem’s cock which made the Russian moan and buck his hips.

“Sorry.” Artem gasped.

“I don’t mind.” Mitch winked at him with a smirk. “Lube?”

It took Artem a moment until his brain caught up and he nodded. “In my suitcase.”

Mitch had no trouble finding it, grabbed a box of condoms while he was at it. He kind of hated them but in that moment was indescribably thankful they existed because if he was to fuck Artem without one, he didn’t think he would’ve been able to even push all the way inside before he came.

“Tell me if it’s too much, yeah? We can stop.”

“I will.” He smiled at Mitch and it wasn’t supposed to be like this, Mitch was supposed to be the one reassuring Artem, not the other way around.

“This can feel kinda weird.” Mitch warned as he put some lube on his fingers. Artem spread his legs without being asked to do that, shifted himself into a more comfortable position and nodded at Mitch.

“Kiss me?”

And Mitch would have prefered to see what he was doing but he could tell that Artem was a bit nervous, besides it wasn’t like Mitch didn’t enjoy making out with him. He settled between Artem’s open legs, let his finger circle around his hole before he leaned in and kissed him. It was gentle and soft, wasn’t meant to be anything else than a bit of a distraction, something to calm him down.

Artem gasped more in surprise than anything else when Mitch finally pushed just the tip of his finger inside him. Mitch broke the kiss but didn’t move away, no more than he needed to to be able to look at Artem, gauge from his expression how he was reacting to this.

There was a crease between Artem’s brows and he was biting his bottom lip. Mitch was going to ask if he should stop but then Artem pushed his hips down a bit forcing Mitch’s finger deeper into him.

“Oh…” His face relaxed, shifted into something softer, some wonder and disbelief and… something else, Mitch didn’t dare go there, afraid that his heart might explode at the mere thought. “Two?” Artem asked and Mitch was reminded that he had to focus at the task at hand. “I’m sure.” He added quickly before Mitch could even open his mouth to ask the question.

It was tight, Artem tensing up involuntarily, unused to the sensation. But he quickly realised he was doing it, relaxed before Mitch could even say or do anything.

“How does it feel?” Mitch asked. He didn’t want dirty talk, he really wanted a genuine answer to his question. He needed to know if Artem was still okay with this, what he was thinking, guessed he wouldn’t find out without some prompting because Artem could be surprisingly reserved when it came to this, even when he was so open about everything else.

“I’m not sure.” Artem laughed, shifted around Mitch’s fingers again. “Can you just…?” He trailed off but Mitch got what he meant, pushed deeper and scissored his fingers which made Artem let out a surprised sound. “This is really weird. But good weird. I think.”

Mitch wanted to laugh at the confusion on Artem’s face but he felt kind of choked up and this was sex, it wasn’t supposed to make him feel all gooey inside and like his heart was about to melt. Or at least it never had before.

Artem gasped when Mitch brushed over his prostate without even realising he’d done that. “What-?” He cut himself off with a moan when Mitch crooked his finger again, this time intentionally.

“Good?”

He knew it was. But even if he hadn’t, he would’ve been able to see it clearly in the flush on Artem’s skin, in the way his breathing got heavier, in how he was looking at Mitch questioningly and so full of trust that Mitch had to kiss him to stop himself from saying something he might have regretted later.

“Just one more.” Mitch said when he thought he had enough control over himself not to say something stupid.

Artem didn’t even tense up this time, his body opening up immediately, eager to have Mitch back inside him. Artem’s tongue swiped over his own lips and Mitch kissed him again, Artem’s hands falling onto his hips, sliding up onto his back, his fingers digging into the skin there when Mitch found his prostate again.

“Enough.” Artem was panting, his cheeks red and his pupils blown as he unwittingly fucked himself on Mitch’s fingers. He looked like he was a short moment away from coming.

“You sure?” Mitch’s heart skipped a beat, he was so absorbed in preparing Artem he’d forgotten this was supposed to go further. “I can just finish you off like this.” He twisted his fingers inside Artem to make his point, pressed them against his prostate and Artem moaned weakly but grabbed at his wrist, pulling it away from his body.

“No, no, no…” He shook his head and Mitch complied, pulled his fingers out, wiped them on the sheets. He’d worry about the mess later. “I want you.”

Mitch swallowed. “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

His hands were shaking when he rolled the condom down his cock, covered it in more lube than was probably necessary. He was hyper aware of Artem, of his every move, so he noticed the odd expression on his face and the way his hips shifted on the bed.

“Okay?”

Artem shrugged. “I feel… empty.” He laughed quietly. “I don’t know. Hurry up.”

Mitch regarded him for a moment. He really loved him like this, but he needed to make it as comfortable for Artem as possible. “It’ll feel better if you turn around.”

Artem nodded, turned onto his front, pausing to kiss Mitch.

“On you hands and knees.” Mitch said softly, couldn’t stop himself from slipping a finger inside Artem again, leaning down to kiss along his spine. “Fuck… I just…” He shook his head with a laugh and straightened up.

Artem was watching him over his shoulder, his head pillowed on his arms. “Come on.”

Mitch stroked his hand down Artem’s back soothingly, let it rest on his hip, holding him still. Artem made a quiet noise as Mitch pushed in, hid his face in a pillow. Mitch stilled his hips, even though his body wanted nothing more than to thrust forward. But Artem’s whole body was tense - Mitch could see it, could _feel_ it - and he was breathing shallowly.

“Hey, you have to relax or this will hurt.”

Artem nodded, his hand finding Mitch’s which was still resting on Artem’s hip, and Mitch covered Artem’s hand with his own, sandwiching it between Mitch’s palm and Artem’s own hip. Artem took a deep breath - shaky, but deep - and Mitch felt him slowly begin to relax. Artem pushed his hips back experimentally, didn’t stop until Mitch was fully inside him.

“Shit, Artem.” Mitch was barely hanging onto the shreds of his self-control. He kept himself perfectly still, waiting for Artem to do something, thankful that the Russian seemed fine now, no longer tense. “Artem…” Mitch repeated, a bit more urgently.

Artem turned his head so that he could look at Mitch again and nodded. He slipped his hand from under Mitch’s, propped himself up on both elbows.

Mitch’s first few thrusts were a bit hesitant, just testing the water. But when Artem’s only reaction was to move his hips to the rhythm Mitch had built up, soft sounds spilling from his lips, Mitch grasped his hips harder, pulled all the way back and then thrusted in in one smooth move which had Artem grabbing at the sheets, pushing his hips back against Mitch as if he wanted to get him even deeper.

Mitch wasn’t prepared for how turned on he could get seeing Artem coming apart beneath him, because of him. Artem was always relatively quiet but in that moment he just couldn’t stop himself from making noises each time Mitch thrusted inside him. He was babbling, a mix of English and Russian and it was so hot, especially because it was Mitch who was making him lose control like that.

“Сильнее… Harder, please, I-”

“I’ve got you.”

Artem shoved his hand underneath himself, Mitch could see his arm moving, knew he was jerking off. Mitch angled his thrusts so that he was hitting Artem’s prostate each time he pushed in, gripped his hips tighter, preventing them from moving, and just fucked him until Artem was a complete mess against the sheets, unable to do anything but just take it.

Artem was whimpering his name, trying to push back through the hold Mitch had on him. Mitch leaned down to bite at his shoulder, soothing the skin with his tongue afterwards and that was all it took. He felt Artem tightening around him, shaking as he came onto the sheets, moaning Mitch’s name.

Mitch slowed down his thrusts but didn’t stop, riding out Artem’s orgasm until Artem reached behind himself, pushed at Mitch’s hip.

“Не, не, я уже… _Fuck_. Too much, too much…” He was unconsciously trying to pull away from Mitch’s hips, but at the same time laughing breathlessly, high from his orgasm, giddy… It reminded Mitch of Spa, how carefree Artem seemed after he’d come off that podium. Apparently mind blowing sex had the same effect on him, only _more_.

Mitch got what Artem meant even before he started speaking, pulled out gently, careful not to make it feel too weird for Artem. He pulled the condom off, threw it somewhere next to the bed and jerked himself off quickly, coming on Artem’s arse and his own fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to faceplant onto the bed, snuggle up to Artem and just kiss him until they both fell asleep. But Artem was covered in cum, both Mitch’s and his own, and lying in a wet spot and dried spunk didn’t feel good, Mitch knew that from firsthand experience. So he gathered what little strength he had left to fetch a cloth from the bathroom, which he then used to wipe Artem clean before coaxing him into moving to the other side of the bed, where the sheets were dry.

He settled on his side near the centre of the bed, head pillowed on his arm, and watched Artem who was lying on his back, eyes closed.

“Okay?”

Artem turned his head to look at him, a huge grin on his face as he nodded. His smile softened as he rolled onto his side so that they were facing each other, snuggled closer to Mitch, his hand on the back of the Kiwi’s neck as he pulled him in for a sweet kiss.

“Can we sleep now?” He asked, his fingers rubbing patterns on Mitch’s skin, and it wasn’t fair, that was a dirty trick which always made Mitch’s eyes close almost against his will. It was something only Alex and Artem knew and Mitch swore to himself he’d keep it that way.

There were so many things he wanted to say but was afraid to. If his suspicions were correct, Artem wouldn’t have minded, would’ve probably shared the sentiment… But they had just made up and maybe it was too soon… They had time, he wanted to make sure Artem wouldn’t freak out first.

“Я люблю тебя.” Artem whispered against his lips.

“Hmm?”

Artem’s fingers stroking over the nape of his neck were making him sleepy, he didn’t have enough strength to open his eyes. If he had, he would’ve seen Artem staring at him with a soft smile.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Я люблю тебя, as you might have guessed/known, means 'I love you'. The rest (from this as well as the first chapter) is unimportant.


End file.
